#one time someone was brushing their teeth (coworker). another a coworker LOUDLY banged on the shared wall in the stall

[bunnyb34r]

Gonna go get a UTI sitting in the movies for 3 hours 🥰 #TreatYourselfTuesday

[nitr0glycer1ne]

Ducktober/Duckvember Day 14 - Alternate Universe

Hi! Well, I love AUs, so I had a blast trying to come up with one here! The AU part isn't obvious at first, but you'll see quickly what it's about. Be warned that this chapter mentions a main character's death, and its tone is far heavier than previous entries. With that being said, I hope you enjoy!

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It’s 9 pm when Donald gives a kiss on each of the triplets’ foreheads. It’s a bit late for them, he knows it, but he had to work overtime today to fill in for a coworker who had called in sick (when Donald knew said coworker actually went for an extended weekend vacation in Florida). The triplets are sharing the same bed, tucked under two blankets, so they can keep each other warm. The winter is particularly cruel this year, and the boat’s walls aren’t enough to prevent its freezing bite from reaching the Duck family. But the ducklings will be alright: they have each other and a comfortable, pleasantly warm bed their uncle made sure to heat before bedtime, thanks to bottles filled with hot water.

Huey gets his kiss first, and he gives Donald a small hug before holding his favorite stuffed toy closer. Dewey is next, grumbling a bit – but Donald knows it’s just for show. The triplets are only six, but Dewey insists that he’s “almost an adult” and “doesn’t want to do baby stuff anymore”. Donald isn’t very worried about that; a few months ago, it was Huey who acted that way, and it lasted an impressive three weeks.   Finally, Donald makes sure to give Louie an extra kiss as well as a comforting hug. Louie has had trouble sleeping lately, since his brothers have decided to get rid of the night light. He doesn’t show it, or at least tries not to, but Donald knows how to decipher the slightest change in his boys’ behavior. Which is why he never complains when the youngest triplet timidly slips into his room and asks to sleep with him after a nightmare, even if Donald has been working thirteen hours that day and doesn’t really need to be woken up in the middle of the night.

“Good night, boys. I love you.” “Good night uncle Donald.” Huey and Louie yawn in unison, Dewey having already fallen asleep.

Donald turns the bedside table’s light off and leaves the room, making sure the door stays slightly open so a tiny ray of light can reach the room and bring Louie some comfort.

It’s his turn to yawn when he steps inside the living room. He does the dishes and briefly considers watching some TV before deciding against it – he just wants to go to sleep as soon as possible, his weary body yearning to find the comfort of his bed and to fall into blissful sleep. Donald grabs his pajamas from his room and heads to the bathroom, taking an express shower and brushing his teeth before the final step of his nighttime ritual. He tiptoes to the triplets’ room and, making sure not to make the tiniest noise, opens the door just enough to check they’re asleep. Thankfully, they are: Huey is on his back, arms tightly hugging his stuffed dinosaur, Dewey is sprawled over his brothers, and Louie is in fetal position, seemingly calm and not having a nightmare.

Satisfied and relieved, Donald smiles and heads to his room. He lies down and sighs in contentment, happy to enjoy the comfort of his bed after a day spent in the assembly line of a factory.

But his satisfaction is short-lived: he’s barely had time to slip under the blanket when a loud noise resonates nearby, and the boat is suddenly rocking, although the sea is calm. There’s a groan of pain, and then someone loudly knocks at the door.

Donald’s heart races in fear and confusion; he’s not behind any payments, he doesn’t own anyone money, and he doesn’t know anyone who could have decided to pay him an impromptu visit. The knocking continues, growing more insistent; panic rising in his throat, choking him and tasting like bile, Donald dashes outside his room and towards the entrance of his boat, hoping the commotion hasn’t woken his kids.

He doesn’t even check through the peephole, his priority being to make the banging on his door stop. Donald brutally opens the door, and his eyes widen when he finds out who exactly has been disturbing him so rudely.

There’s a very tall and large bird standing right in front of him. He can only make out his basic features thanks to the obscurity of the winter night, but it’s enough to see the stranger is ripped – because, for some reason that probably defies nature’s law, a faint light is radiating from said stranger. Curiously, even though the biting cold is making Donald shiver seconds only after opening the door, the curious bird is only wearing what looks like a short and thin tunic. The stranger also has a large pair of fluffy white wings fluttering behind him, and long blonde hair frames his face like a halo. The muted light the unknown bird is emitting allows Donald to see the basic features of his visage: large, shining honey eyes, a long beak, and a jovial smile.

There’s an instant of silence during which Donald blinks in confusion, wondering if he’s suffering from a sleep deprivation-induced hallucination, and during which the stranger beams at him like he’s looking at the eighth wonder of the world. After Donald closes his eyes, pinches his arm, grimaces in pain, and opens his eyes, the stranger is still there. He’s about to ask him what he wants, when the tall bird beats him to the punch:

“Ah, Donald Duck!” he booms, his voice elegant yet loud, far too loud for Donald’s poor, tired ears to stand it past 10 pm after spending a tiring day at work. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, after all this time I’ve heard about you!”

There’s a lot of questions rising in Donald’s chest from that sentence alone, but they’re pushed back to the back of his mind compared to a more urgent matter:

“Would you keep it down? I have three kids sleeping in there.” he sighs, pointing his index at the boat behind him. Donald’s teeth start chattering as the cold penetrates his body further and further, in spite of his thick pajamas. “Oh, of course, I apologize!” his visitor lowers his voice, although it retains its bombastic tone. “Hubert, Dewford and Llewellyn! Oh, I can’t wait to meet them as well!”

Donald’s eyes squint, and he can feel his fists tingling with a very familiar feeling. It’s one thing for a complete stranger to visit him at indecent hours, it’s another entirely for said stranger to know his nephew’s names.

“What do you want?” the duck hisses, paternal instincts kicking in and overriding everything else, like the freezing air surrounding his body. “Who are you?” “Ah, sorry for not introducing myself earlier!” the stranger apologizes, looking sincerely regretful, his voice still low. “I am Storkules, and I am your guardian angel!”

An awkward silence follows. The stranger – Storkules, apparently – has managed to completely take Donald by surprise, making him blink several times before he looks particularly suspicious and takes a step backwards.

“Look, I don’t know if you find this funny, but it’s far too late for you to be playing pranks on people. Good night.”

Donald turns around, but just before he steps inside his boat, a hand grabs his wrist. The duck immediately spins around; he hates physical contact with people he isn’t familiar with. Thankfully, Storkules’ hold isn’t brutal in the slightest, feeling like a warm cuff around his shivering feathers.

“I promise you I am, Donald. I was sent by my father, Zeus, to look after you.”

Donald sighs. Apparently, the colossus is being serious – well, maybe Donald would rather say delusional – so the duck decides to humor him in an attempt to get him to finally leave.

“Okay, let’s admit you’re right and you’re my… guardian angel.” He sighs, pinching the skin right above his beak. “Then where were you when I was raising three infants on my own? When Huey had a peritonitis and he almost…” Donald chokes up on the last word, unable to finish his sentence. “Or when Della…” another sentence left incomplete.

Storkules lets go of his wrist, looking particularly pained at the tears budding in the corner of Donald’s eyes. Donald catches his soft gaze and wipes his eyes angrily, not wanting pity from anyone.

“I am sorry about all of that.” Storkules apologizes, and Donald is surprised at the sincerity of his words. It’s not the empty, premade apologizes people give him when they learn of the death of his twin sister in a disastrous plane crash; it’s genuine concern and empathy. “I watched you taking care of the fiery, brave and unstoppable Della Duck’s three beautiful children all on your own, I saw all the sacrifices you did for them. I wanted to help you sooner, but…” Storkules sighed, “my father can be very obtuse, sadly. He rarely gives angels the permission to help humans, and I’ve been trying to convince him for the past six years – thankfully, he has finally given in to my dearest wish.”

Donald takes a moment to process the information, his throat aching and a tight knot forming in his stomach. It’s been so, so long since he’s talked about Della; he hasn’t even said her name out loud since the boys were four, when Dewey had asked why they didn’t have a mom.

“How… how do you know about Della?” he finally manages to get out, almost choking on his twin’s name. “She had a guardian angel of her own.” Storkules explains, a faint smile growing back on his beak. “My beloved sister, Selene. She had been watching over Della ever since your sister was nine, one night she prayed to the stars after-” “After Mom and Dad’s death.” Donald finishes for him, his breath short, memories that have been buried long ago rushing to the surface of his mind, flashes that warm his heart as they shatter it. “Yes.” Storkules nods. “Selene was deeply touched by Della’s pain, and she begged my father to let him help her and serve as her guardian angel. She implored for years before she was finally granted permission to watch over your sister and help her in any way she could, from the day you both turned thirteen.”

Donald thinks back to that time of their lives – a complicated period. Scrooge was having trouble dealing with two teenagers, Donald was going through a particularly difficult time and channeled all his anger and bitterness at the world into his music, and Della… Della had issues too, especially obvious with the way she insisted on taking care of Donald when he didn’t need or want it. But she always kept going, and every night she went to sleep with a smile on her face. Sometimes, on full moons, she would sneak out of their room – it was a common occurrence on regular nights, to be fair, and Donald himself was guilty of the same infraction, but on the nights the moon shone bright in the sky, Della only returned right before dawn. Della would also sometimes smile for apparently no reason or speak alone when she thought no one was watching.

If Storkules is right, then her having a guardian angel, probably invisible to the rest of the world, explains Della’s behavior back then. But it also has another implication, one that has Donald suddenly feeling like raw anger is taking over him, one that has him raising his voice:

“Then why didn’t Selene protect her from- from- when-”

His fists curl into Storkules’s tunic; but the large bird doesn’t flinch, remaining calm, which only feeds the duck’s ire.

“Guardian angels have rules they’re bound to, lest they be destroyed.” he explains as bitter tears roll down Donald’s beak. “Selene couldn’t save Della from her terrible fate. She tried, putting her very life on the line- but father stopped her attempts, not wanting to lose her. To this day, my cherished sister regrets not having been able to save her beloved Della.”

Donald lowers his head, the situation making far too much repressed emotions and forgotten memories flood his whole being. Before he knows it, he’s kneeling on the floor, openly crying, his members feeling drained, his hands letting go of Storkules’ tunic and sluggishly falling to his sides. Storkules envelops him into a tight hug, his embrace almost too tight, but he’s radiating warmth and comfort, and Donald lets himself be surrounded by the light soothing his heart and his body.

“I am deeply sorry about Della.” Storkules says, petting Donald’s back. “I wish there was something, anything I could have done to help her and Selene. I wish I could have been there to help you raise your treasured nephews. And now that I’m finally allowed to be by your side, I swear on my life that I shall do my best to provide you and your family all the support, the help, the protection, the safety you need.”

Donald weakly nods. It’s been six years since he last allowed himself to be so vulnerable, always putting a strong front on for the three boys he loves so much. Letting go of all his sorrow, his rage, letting himself be comforted and soothed is more liberating than he could have expected. He only flinches when he hears a noise behind him, and Storkules lets him go, allowing Donald to spin around and find himself face to face with three ducklings, looking sleepy but mainly worried. Huey is holding Louie’s hand, and Dewey is in front of them.

“Uncle Donald? What are you doing here?” the triplet clad in blue pajamas asks, puzzled. “Why are you crying? Did someone hurt you?” Louie worries, his grip on Huey’s hand tightening. “And what are you doing here all alone?” Huey finishes.

Donald quickly looks over his shoulder: Storkules is still here, looking at the triplets, basically hopping in his spot, sheer happiness and a childlike excitement on his face, no doubt internally cooing at how precious they are. The duck can’t help it; the angel’s smile is contagious, and he smiles at his nephews, hugging the three of them as tight as he can, basking in their presence and the pure joy having the ducklings in his life brings him.

“Nothing, boys. Let’s go inside, okay? You’ll catch a cold. You can have some warm milk before going back to bed.”

Donald lets the hug linger for a little while, before letting the kids go. Dewey grins at him and rushes to the kitchen, excited at the perspective of a late-night treat; Louie gives his uncle a last, small hug before following his brother, and Huey looks attentively at Donald, taking his uncle’s hand in his:

“Are you okay now, uncle Donald?” “Yeah, Huey.” Donald nods, affectionately ruffling the boy’s head. “I’m okay.”

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Guardian Angel AUs are a weakness of mine... The reason Della sneaked out on full moons is because it's the only time when Selene can take a full corporeal form, allowing Della to physically interact with her. It's important to her, because I feel like Della is a very physical person with her loved one. Also I'm mad at myself for putting Donald through so much angst... him and Goofy are tied for best Disney dads!!! I love Donald! I also wanted to write the nephews being younger that what I'm used to. I hope they weren't too corny. Also this AU could maybe end up in Dorkules because it's a cute wholesome underrated pairing!!!